“Shh…” Bo stroked her hair. “It’s okay. If anyone asks, Androismy son. Some day in the future, if you’re still willing, maybe we can try again. Give him a little brother or sister. What do you say?”
In Lucky’s mind Bo comforted their kids through skinned knees and, later on, broken hearts. Still, his own heart ached. Seeing Charlotte disappointed damn near gutted him.
She’d offered so much of herself to make them happy. There was no right or wrong answer here. No matter the decision, there’d be a cost.
Lucky did all he knew to do: wrap his sister in his arms and hold on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Lucky slouched into work after an all-too-brief hospital visit, tiptoeing off the elevator and past the reception desk. Lisa, back turned while she searched for something in a filing cabinet, didn’t notice him.
Good. Bo had promised not to share with her or anyone else in the department—yet. Her gushing about their impending arrival might derail his plans to maintain a sonofabitch image.
All pretense of sharing a cube with Bo flew out the window the moment Lucky arrived at his desk. No sign of Bo, not even his computer docking station. Instead, pictures of Rone Johnson covered the desk, and a magnet on the filing cabinet declared, “Monday hates you too!”
A flower pot shaped like a duck sat on the desk, overflowing with ink pens.
Loretta Johnson sat at the next desk, typing away at her laptop. Without so much as looking up, she handed Lucky a cup of Starbucks and resumed typing.
The Christmas cactus remained on the cabinet, trailing long green shoots down the sides.
Words fought hard to come out of his mouth:“Did you hear me and Bo are parents?”
Keeping his mouth shut damned near killed Lucky, only, how much could he tell without more questions coming his way than he could answer? Most folks in the department knew he and Bo lived together. Other than the basic facts, they kept their relationship out from under other people’s noses. Except for a choice few, like Walter, Johnson, and Lisa, who regularly came to their house, and asshole Keith, whose daughter did. Bo might have a few more he’d confide in.
But not about the baby. Not yet.
The story they’d stick to made creative use of the truth: Yes, Bo was Alejandro’s father, like the birth certificate said. Together he and Bo would raise the child and love him, teach him all he needed to know. Yolanda picked Bo to be the father.
Yes, they’d always planned a family and decided on surrogacy. Very true.
Saying too much right now wasn’t advisable, since so much could still go wrong, health-wise. While no one would contest Bo being the father, adding Alejandro to his medical plan definitely fell into the “fraud” category, unless Walter managed to work his magic.
For better or worse, they’d made a decision. Bo could even apply for paternity leave. He wouldn’t, not when he’d earned the dubious honor of being Walter’s replacement, and taking leave would mean the boss postponing retirement.
While Walter’s skills remained sharp, the job definitely took a toll on his health. He’d done his time in the war zone of drug enforcement, and deserved to spend his golden years not looking over his shoulder or dealing with criminals.
And driving Mrs. Smith crazy, being underfoot all the time. Walter’s words, not Lucky’s.
Lucky could take time off to help the new addition get settled in, but he had a crop of newbies to see to, and a case. Finding out how those drugs got into schools fell on his shoulders. Besides, Charlotte had volunteered for childcare while Bo and Lucky worked.
While she didn’t mention her no longer needing to get pregnant, she threw herself into knitting baby blankets between her online courses. Next semester called for her to show up at a brick and mortar school occasionally, but for now, staying home worked.
Except for the times she left the house alone, not saying where she was going or when she’d be back.
Had she met someone? Funny, she’d not mentioned a man. Then again, she’d always said she’d never bring a date around her kids unless she was damned sure of the relationship going somewhere.
Oh well. Lucky would happily tell Salters he’d lost out. Strange, Salters hadn’t asked about Charlotte lately. Maybe he’d given up and gone away.
Then again, any of the trainees could dance naked in front of Lucky and he’d probably not notice, as preoccupied as he’d been.
Nope, not an image he needed. Focus. He needed to focus on important things.
Like his family.
At least another week before they’d bring little Alejandro home. Andro. Their son. Lucky’s heart swelled.
Family. Lucky’s family. He’d be a father. He and Bo. Though they hadn’t gone about it like they first envisioned, only the end results mattered.
